A Merry Fowl Christmas
by Travithian Axile
Summary: Challenge entry, oneshot. PostAF. Artemis celebrates Christmas with his mother and questions the wisdom of making the wish after all. R&R!


Title: A Merry Fowl Christmas

Author: Travithian

Summary: Response to the December-January challenge. Artemis spends Christmas with his mother, post-AF.

Genre: G

Pairings: none

Warnings: a bit of mush

"_Deck the halls with boughs of hooooolly_

_Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la…"_

Artemis had been very grateful to Captain Holly Short of the LEPrecon at first when his mother had finally descended from the attic of her own free will on Christmas. Uncharacteristically, he had decided that the gift of his mother's sanity had been the best Christmas present he had ever received, despite the fact that he had been obliged to pay half the ransom money to buy the wish.

A few hours later, he was rethinking this decision over. He would almost rather be motherless and free to pursue his own illicit activities. Not to mention he would be quite a few bars of gold richer. If it wasn't for Social Services…a little voice inside him whispered that he definitely would be quite upset if Angeline Fowl fell ill again, but he pushed that thought away, because it was stirring up warm and fuzzy feelings inside him that were quite unbecoming for a child criminal mastermind.

These dark thoughts had been brought about by the fact that, instead of wearing his usual Armani suit, he had somehow been coerced into shopping for clothes and dressing up in a T-shirt, jeans and the curiously named trainers by his mother. He fumed impotently as Angeline cooed over him and Butler and Juliet did their best to smile politely and not burst out laughing. Butler was succeeding very well; only the suspicious twinkle in his eyes betrayed his true feelings, but Juliet was shaking so hard little giggles kept popping out of her mouth like foam from vigorously shaken champagne. Artemis glowered at her and silently vowed vengeance.

"Are you sure you don't want to keep this outfit? You finally look your age for once, Arty!" his mother clucked over him. "And your hair…what have you done to it? It doesn't suit you when you slick it back like that. You should let it fall over your forehead…" She lovingly rearranged his fringe. Artemis was on the verge of combusting. Family, after all, went so far. Really, Angeline was exploiting their mother-son relationship a bit too much.

"Mother," he ground through gritted teeth, but carefully keeping to a civilized tone, "I assure you that I am perfectly capable of dressing myself. Besides, in the absence of Father…" here he was sadistically pleased to see his mother flinch, her disgustingly cheerful spirit dim slightly, "I am required to act in his stead and confer with businessmen thrice my age. Wearing these demeaning clothes will only lessen their respect for me; it is already unbelievably hard for me not to be taken seriously by other adults."

His mother sighed. "Oh, Arty, be a child for once. It's been a long time since we last celebrated Christmas. Where's your Yule spirit?" Right on cue, the speakers blared:

"'_Tis the season to be jolly, _

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la…"   
"No thanks," Artemis said in as surly as a tone as his upbringing would allow him. "You must learn to accept the fact that I am a child prodigy, Mother, and that I tend to react to situations differently than people of a lower IQ."   
Juliet stopped laughing and gave Artemis a glare that clearly stated, "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"   
Angeline sighed again. Even doing something as normal as shopping with Artemis the Second was inevitably able to cause insanity to weaker minds. And therein lay the problem. Normal. Putting Artemis and normal together was like pairing an elephant and glass slippers. They just didn't go together. Some things were never meant to be, after all.   
"So what would you want for Christmas, Arty?" she asked, hoping that he would cave in just this once. He didn't. "I am grateful for your concern, Mother, but if I wish anything I can provide for myself; I have a big enough budget to pay for my needs and wants," he assured her. Juliet was goggle-eyed. Refusing free presents was practically anathema to her. She had already pleaded a jade ring, five different shades of glitter eye shadow and two tickets for the latest WrestleMania from Mrs. Fowl, who was very susceptible to puppy-eyed looks. 

"_Don now we our gay apparel_

_Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la…"_

"Okay," Angeline moaned, giving up and wishing her son was more like Juliet. Or like any other airhead but ordinary teenager, for that matter. "Let's go back home. But are you sure, Arty?"

"Positively." Artemis smirked mentally in relief.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

At Fowl Manor, things were looking brighter. The doorway was still in a state of repair following the encounter with the troll (Artemis had spent a long time persuading Angeline that he had been meaning to redecorate) but the interior was lighted up and cheery, a refreshing contrast from the somewhat drab atmosphere Artemis had grown used to since his father's mysterious disappearance. It was a hive of activity; his mother had retired to her room to have her hair done, the caterers were running in and out, the staff was hanging tinsel and streamers everywhere, and fragrant aromas were wafting out of the kitchen.

Around seven, the guests started to arrive. Artemis, who had retired to the patio with his laptop to escape from the chaos in his house, was annoyed when several giggling girls in painfully eye-catching colors stopped to coo over him and say "aw, so cute!" and upset his concentration while he was involved in introducing a money-nibbling worm into a bank. They were soon fleeing in terror, intimidated by his vocabulary and vampire smile. At half past seven, he went to his room and changed to a suit, dinner jacket, and loafers. He also combed back his hair. No matter what his mother said, he knew better.

At eight, all the decorations were in place and the choir from a nearby church was in the corner singing their hearts out while the guests listened appreciatively and dropped donations into a hat.

"_Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol_

_Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la…"_

Artemis walked past them without comment and helped himself to the choicest morsels from the table. His mother, resplendent in a beautiful black dress that hugged her curves nicely, was the perfect hostess. She was where she was wanted, and not there when she wasn't, dropping compliments and making small talk effortlessly. Therefore Artemis was annoyed to come across two ladies pointing and gossiping about his mother behind her back. Mostly about her recent mental illness and her husband. "Most likely run off with another woman," they agreed. "the Fowls have been criminals for ages, I warned her, didn't I? See what's happened now…" "It's his money, I tell you…"

His photographic memory recalled their names. Angeline had introduced all the guests to him, and he noted them. Undoubtedly Lady Genevis and Hamilton would be quite upset when they discovered that a virus had attacked their computer systems tomorrow, but it couldn't be helped. That's what you get when you insult a Fowl.

He dodged a few irritating guests, including girls his age who wanted him to play Candyland with them and adults who felt compelled to ask inane questions and ruffle the hair of anybody younger than twenty and passed his time by hiding underneath the grand staircase and hacking profitably into a number of websites. Until Angeline found him and dragged him back to the party despite voluble protests.

Artemis sulked for a while before Butler walked past with a resigned expression on his face. An inebriated Juliet was hanging off his arm, chewing on a branch that Artemis recognized as a limb from the Christmas tree in the hall, and complaining, "Hey, what's up with this candy bar? It's too tough and it tastes like…like…"

"Butler, how could you?" Artemis asked, shaking his head in amusement. "Letting her get into the alcohol…"

The bodyguard responded with a pained expression. It was very hard to keep track of Juliet.

Juliet seemed to recognize Juliet even in her crashed state, because she waved drunkenly at him and slurred, "Arty, you're the one with the posh vocash-vocabula-ary, so tell me…(belch)guess what's inside this."

And she handed the pine branch to him.

Artemis eyed the slobber-covered branch in distaste. "Genetically modified swordfish tasting like cheddar?" he suggested randomly.

"Right!" Juliet clapped her hands together. "You're-haha- so funny, funny! How about… bubble gum and fried—"

"That's enough," Butler growled and carried off his sister bodily to the nearest bathroom. Artemis grimaced and dropped the branch onto the tray of a surprised waiter, wiping his hands on a silk handkerchief in his pocket.

At ten, the guests exchanged presents with each other. Angeline became teary as she unwrapped Artemis' present, a replica of the diamond earrings her husband had given her which had somehow disappeared on their last wedding anniversary. She wrapped him up in a hug and he promptly escaped after being released. He carefully unwrapped the present she had given him and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the diary inside. Obviously another way to get him to 'communicate' and 'express his feelings.' Of course his mother would not have known the existence of his secret diary, encrypted and protected by a password, located only in cleverly hidden disks. Still, she had tried.

The party came to a raucous end at eleven pm and the guests left after a round of thank yous and good-byes in good humor. Angeline watched them leave from the front door and then turned to her son, standing impassively behind her. "So, did you enjoy yourself, Arty?" she asked, smiling slightly.

Artemis shrugged elegantly. "I have experienced worse." Angeline scowled at his obvious evasion of the question. "Don't dodge, Arty."

"Very well." Artemis paused to consider his choice of words. "I have had an excellent opportunity to study how lower life forms operate on the social ladder. Perhaps I will write a book on it." He did not mention that he had already published a book on psychology under a pseudonym.

Angeline didn't know whether to be angry or to laugh. In the end she just smiled helplessly. "You're really something, Arty."

"Of course," he stated indifferently. "I am a genius."

But he smiled as Angeline put her arm around him to lead him back inside, chattering gaily, and for a moment the boy he should have been shone through the cold mask. Only an unseen intruder on the scene heard the words he whispered to the night air, his eyes searching for something.

"Thanks, Holly."

As mother and son entered the house together, Holly unshielded, smiling as she had all day as she witnessed Angeline's and Artemis' happy reunion. "And a merry Fowl Christmas to you," she said cheerfully, and her personal duty done, she zipped away through the air to Tara.

END


End file.
